elle me dit
by malikaaa
Summary: "Wally agonizes over what to text Richelle. Should it be 'hey ;)' or 'Hello, Daughter of Batman' or 'ur really cute and i really like u and i think we should date even if the literal batman would not like it?" fem!robin. birdflash.


hi so um a few things.

wally is 100000000000% black and robin is half amazigh n half rromani but also a cis girl in this n i kno kinda problematic bc it prob seems like robins only a girl for birdflash 2 be straight? But? I just like fem Robin pLUS I tried to make it p clear that they were both ultimate bis

also bless this is my first fic i hope u like it !

* * *

Wally thinks the Batcave is the de facto coolest place on the planet. Because…it is.

That doesn't mean he likes going there though.

He's not a big fan of—well. You can take your pick.

Ancient stalagmites that could fall and crush you at any second. Huge literal bats. Batman's aura. (The man seems to hate Wally for some reason.) You get the idea.

So when his uncle drags him there on "emergency League business" that "sorry, Walls, you've got to come with" (he doesn't, he could totally run home), and besides, he should "want all the opportunities he can" to observe the JL that he's supposed to be part of someday, he's not super pleased.. He still doesn't know why he has to go, but he figures that if nothing else, he can see Rob.

"Robin's probably by the computer," says Barry, before freezing and mouthing 'Fuck'.

Whatever.

He doesn't see Rob.

In fact, there's only one figure at the Computer and it is decidedly not Batman, nor Robin, not unless one of them turned into a really pretty girl with brown skin and inky hair that has on a wind breaker that looks like it was designed in 1985. She smiles at him and she has dimples.

I also have dimples, he thinks, kind of totally stunned, so we're probably soul mates. He bites his literal tongue and pumps himself up to give her what he hopes is a nonchalant smile.

It's—it is, yeah. It is.

God, he's even stuttering in his head. This could still be Batman, he thinks before he lets himself swoon as the girl beams. She motions for him to come over. Wally glances around. Barry is still talking to Bruce about…that mission in Turkmenistan, most likely.

Ugh.

It didn't go well because nothing ever does but also because Wally slipped up and didn't do his job. He's probably here to re-re-re-give testimony on exactly howwhenwherewhy he messed up. He's pretty much perfected his spiel.

Wally takes one step, slowly, looking at the older heroes the whole time. They don't even acknowledge him. Then he speeds over.

"Hey," he says feeling pretty smooth until he notices she's even prettier close up. Wally searches, scours, his whole entire mind for an absolutely amazing pickup line but all he comes up with is, "You know how I got these guns?" He points to his biceps. "Lifting children out of poverty, natural disasters, anthropogenic disasters, total apocalyptic situations. The usual."

"Wow," she says, appraising his arms. "You know, Batman hates guns."

Um, he thinks. "Um," he says.

Wally knew it. This chick is Batman and the other one talking to Barry is a decoy. Or maybe Robin in some black moon boots or something. That would explain him not being here.

Wait, he thinks. Have I been saying all this out loud?

The girl nods, grinning. "I'm not Batman. I'm Rich. As in, the nickname, not affluent?"

"Rad name!" he says, trying to figure out what it actually is.

Richard...Rochelle...Richelle...whatever.

Rich.

"I'm, um, Kid Flash."

"Fun," Rich says.

"So what are you doing…in the actual Batcave?" Like, is she here to give testimony too? Is she a baddie? He doesn't think Batman would let her be on the Batcomputer if she was, but he's not sure. Gotham's a weird place. "I mean, I'm here to—" Wally thinks fast; it's kind of his thing. "Chill with the Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader, World's Greatest Detective, the Batman. Cause I'm like a superhero, and he's a superhero, so we chill together. It's, uh. Pretty rad, I guess, if you like that kind of thing."

Everything he's just said is like 97% false but.

A smile. Dimples. He's swooning. "I do like that kind of thing."

He nods. Um, he'd like to state, for the record, that her eyes are this shade of blue that is just... _incredible_. He can't think of a great comparison to anything in nature but when he does, it'll be really deep and poetic.

"But I'm down here a lot. Like. Batman is kind of my dad?"

It takes Wally a second. Or five.

"I-I'm sorry, what? He's, he's your?" He cranes his head around to look at the man. Bats is staring directly at Wally. Yeah, this is–

Happening.

He spins around, staring at Rich with really big eyes.

"Is he still staring?" Wally whispers.

"Yeah," she whispers back.

He grins at her kind of hysterically and she bursts into quiet (super cute?!) laughter so he bursts into laughter too and then they're both laughing at the fact that he flirted with the daughter of Batman in front of him so he's gonna die.

"How long until he, um, kills me, you think?"

Rich shakes her head, plunging her hands into the weird jacket's pockets. "He doesn't kill. I think…" her eyes flick up in thought, "yeah, I think you'll be fine. Be prepared for some _intense_ silence though, my guy."

"Wally!" Barry calls. "Let's go."

He stands still for a long moment, begins to pivot to his uncle. Then, a hand grabs his wrist.

"Wait," she says, biting her lip. "Do you—?"

" _Yeah_ ," he nods eagerly, grinning so hard his face is gonna crack, he's pretty sure.

"You have a marker, or like an exposed patch of skin—or some paper or something?"

He rips off his glove so his wrist is exposed. Fast. Rich grabs a marker from her pocket and grabs his wrist again, writing upside down.

Wally can feel the tickly sensation of the marker but all he can focus on his how her hands are really warm against his skin.

"Okay," she says, drawing back.

"Okay," he says, looking at the sloppy numbers and the cursive black Richelle on his umber skin.

"Wally!" His uncle sounds impatient.

He slips the glove back on. Grins. He heads over to Barry, waving at her as they leave.

* * *

Wally _agonizes_ over what to text Richelle.

Should it be 'hey ;)' or 'Hello, Daughter of Batman' or 'ur really cute and i really like u and i think we should date even if the literal batman would not like it'?

Is she a 'flawless grammar and punctuation while texting' type of person? Or a 'fgkdojje' type?

He actually doesn't have to decide because Richelle texts him first even though he forgot to give her his—as his mom said when he told her the whole story in detail—"digits".

He's pretty sure nobody's said that since. Well. Since a _long_ time ago.

But he's not surprised Rich has his number because, duh, daughter of Batman.

' _do u like cinnamon sugar pretzels and grungy malls_?' is what he gets approximately 16 hours after they meet, followed by, ' _its richelle btw ;)_ '

'Yes!' he replies, because that sounds amazing.

'it's a date then?' Rich sends back.

Um, yes!? This is probably going to be his dream date.

He says probably because he's never actually had a good date. He means, well, there's been times like when there was this girl he liked and they went "out" as in outside to an event or the movies but with a lot of other people, even if they sat together and shared food. And there's all the disastrous ones where he has to ditch in the middle to fight a villain or where he accidentally trips and spills soda on both of them. He also goes on what Barry calls "bro dates" with Robin like all the time, even if he would mind if they were actual dates because he kind of likes him?

Anyways, so here's Richelle and she's asking him out? Um, amazing. That's the hard part because he comes off as such a flirt that nobody ever thinks he's sincere so they think he's pulling some sort of joke, which he's not?

But just to be sure: ' _r u ask_ i _ng me out, u stunning rainbow bird_ '.

She types back yes and he _shouts_ yes.

* * *

Alfred walks past his young charge's room in time to hear am excited squeal. He shakes his head fondly.

The heavy door swings open suddenly. Richelle steps out, grinning from ear to ear, and loops her arm under Alfred's.

"Hey, Al," she says, "how are you?"

"I'm...well, Miss, and you?" he asks.

"Me? Richelle Majda Grayson, a, quote, 'stunning rainbow bird', unquote? How is she doing? She's got a date?" Richelle beams. She seems excited beyond belief, running a jittery hand through her hair.

Alfred feels his brows shoot up in surprise. Of course, the young lady is fifteen, he might've suspected this, but it still seems so soon. Too soon. Nonetheless, he is sure Bruce won't be supportive, so he must take that role. "With anyone I know? That young lady, ah, Jennifer?" He strains his mind for all of the people Richelle has spoken about dreamily. "Carter Becerra?"

"Oh, you've met him, Al. It's Wally."

He nearly drops the basket of laundry he's holding. "Him?"

"Yeah," she starts.

"And Master Bruce knows? And as whom, may I ask?" He can't ask the laundry list of questions he has as fast as they appear.

"Uh, no, I think he suspects but no. And as me. Richelle. Not as him." Richelle looks ecstatic. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright and he supposes this has been a long time coming. It's highly likely that she'd developed feelings for the boy as Robin but hadn't expressed them for fear of unrequitedness, being ostracized, or just rejection. As well as the fact that she wasn't really herself when she was Robin.

Alfred felt for her, he did. But that didn't mean he wouldn't be there at the site of the date to spy on them. "Where are you going, might I inquire?"

"Just to the mall," she replies. "Please don't spy on us."

"You won't even notice I'm there," he assures her.

* * *

Artemis doesn't actually really like anyone from her school. Except maybe Bette, who is an actual angel on earth.

But the point is, Artemis is here at the grungiest mall in the worst part of Gotham on a Thursday specifically so she doesn't have to see any of those kids.

She's basking in being alone without the smell of privilege assaulting her when she sees them.

It's Richelle Grayson, the daughter of Bruce fucking Wayne. With Wally West. Who has his arm around her. Awkwardly.

Richelle sees her first. "Artemis!" she grins, waving.

Listen. Artemis likes Rich, she does—she's not super stuck up and she seems really conscientious about things. She doesn't even let her butler (which is a thing she apparently has) pick her up in an actual Rolls Royce; she carpools because she wants to save the environment. And she's cute, to boot.

But.

She was still annoying as hell. Her little "We'll laugh about this someday" stunt wasn't amusing; it had totally embarrassed Artemis on her first day! It wasn't something Artemis had forgotten.

Wally looks up, jaw dropping. Get out of here, he mouthed.

She has a feeling that if his skin wasn't so dark, she'd see him blushing.

Artemis thinks for a second. Possibly endangering both her and Wally's secret identities just to irritate Kid Mouth?

 _Sooo_ worth it. So extremely worth it.

"Hey, Rich!" she said walking over and yanking Richelle into a surprise hug. "How are you?"

"...Good. Good? I guess," the other girl says, looking almost smug, like she knows something until she sees Artemis watching her. Then she smiles brightly and prettily and falsely and Artemis can tell because of the way her lips pull in. "Oh this is, um, Wally."

Wally nods and then freezes for a second, head cocking and eyes fixed on a point behind Artemis. "How did you know—"

Richelle points at herself, and then at the napkin from the pretzel place, on which, in the speedster's scrawl, _Wally+Richelle_ is written in a heart.

He laughs shyly and she laughs shyly, and they're cute, but this is sketchy. Why is he surprised she knows his name. They're on a date, you usually know your date's first name at least. She looks at her, and then at him.

 _What_? Artemis mouths at the speedster.

 _What_? Wally mouths back, almost defensively.

Richelle's eyes flick between them, watching the exchange with a appraising look.

Wally has apparently had enough of the silence by this time, and turns to face Richelle, propping his head up on his hand. "So, Rich, how do you and Artemis know each other?"

"How do you and, uh, Wallace here know each other?" probes Artemis, grinning.

A pause. "We go to school together." Artemis nods at her. "And I just met Wally like 4 days ago?"

"Wow!" gushes Artemis, trying not to make it sound as totally fake or sarcastic as she knows it does. "4 days? Moving pretty fast."

"Yeah," inserts Wally. "We just sort of clicked."

"Oh yeah? I'm her best friend!" That's…okay, that's completely false, that's would the weird library helper kid, Brandon.

"I'm dating her!" Wally shouts back.

"I knew her first! You've known her 4 days!" Artemis pokes him in the chest. Richelle looks like she wishes she were dead at the people she probably doesn't know well or like very much shouting about her in a relatively crowded mall and makes eye contact with someone behind them.

"It's quality not _quantity_ , Artemis!" Wally's arm motions blow the heart covered napkin onto the floor.

"That's probably why—"

* * *

Brandon is only at this mall because he's been to every other one in Gotham and still hasn't found the perfect gift for his dad's birthday; he's definitely not here to witness weird love triangles.

Then he sees Richelle covering her face with her hands while a blonde and a kid in Green Lantern memorabilia fight about…her?

When Rich peeks out between her fingers and sees him, she flashes an awkward grin, tapping her phone meaningfully.

He texts, 'Wtf is going on' and gets a 'just save me batboy omfg' in return. He almost ditches her just for that, because it's Batlad, God, it's not like he had a lot options anyways.

But. She's also his best friend so—

He makes a beckoning gesture. It would be super awkward for him to actually go over there and make her an excuse to leave because then they'd definitely notice her leaving.

Finally, Rich gives an exaggerated sigh and starts scooting her metal chair away from the people screaming.

Eventually, she gets out of the chair and rushes over to his side.

"So," Brandon begins as they walk through an old record store and share Richelle's blue Icee, "what was that all about?"

They're in here because apparently Richelle wants to get a gift for Brandon's dad too, but also because she says that there's only a 20% chance they'll see someone they know in here.

"Well, you know how I'm on that T-E-A-M, or whatever, right?"

Why did you spell that out, you literally could have just said "team", thinks Brandon, biting the side of his cheek. Instead he says, "Obviously."

She flips through the clearance section. A look of pure outrage overtakes her face as she holds up ARTPOP, turning to glare at the store's owner. "Uh, sir, what the hell, why is this here? This album should be treasured and overpriced. And it's from, like, 2013—why is it even fucking on vinyl?"

The man shrugs, crossing his arms and swiveling in his chair to face Richelle. "You're from, 'like', 2001, why are you in a fucking vinyl store?"

"Rich," says Brandon warningly, gripping the girl's wrist.

Richelle casts one more disgusted look at the man who'd disrespected both her and the mother of modern pop music before continuing with the story, and flipping through the clearance. "Anyway. Artemis—from school, you know her—is on that team too."

"Oh, that was her? She looks different," Brandon realizes, stealing the Icee back.

"Yeah, and you know…KF? That was him, that was Wally. So when I was downstairs on Tuesday night, Barry comes in, and he's brought Wally with him to talk to B. I was just, like, on the computer, but then I realized that he probably didn't recognize me. Hopefully. Because, you know, on the team, he thinks I'm a boy or whatever. So I, like, flirted with him?"

Brandon chokes on his drink. He's seen Richelle flirt—it's pretty bad. It usually gives him secondhand embarrassment because it's so fucking cheesy. Not that the people she's flirting with ever seem to realize that; they're usually caught up in wow, this beautiful girl who's way out of my league is flirting with me.

Brandon kind of wishes Rich would flirt with him.

"And he flirted back, right? So I gave him my number and we texted and decided to come to this mall and it was cute, really really cute, but then, like, twenty minutes ago, we saw Artemis. And, obvi, I waved to her because I feel like that's the polite thing to do, you know? Here's the thing, though—um, excuse me, is this The Fame, the iconic 2008 album that started the career of—"

"Okay, let's go," Brandon says, putting the album back and steering Rich out of the store before she can yell at the poor store owner for putting Lady Gaga albums on clearance. They turn into a ceramics store.

"That was actually blasphemy, Brandon, I don't think you realize that." Richelle shoves her hands into her pockets and looks at the ground. She looks cute today, Brandon thinks, failing to sound casual even in his head, in a mini-skirt and an artfully ratty denim jacket and sneakers that probably cost more than his rent.

He hands her the mostly melted, mostly empty drink. "Finish the story?"

"If you insist, I guess." Her tongue is blue. "So Artemis and Wally fight all the time and I can't tell if it's sexual tension and, like, flirting or if it's genuine irritation. But. Of course, I'd hoped for the latter even if it, say, impeded the capabilities of our team as a whole.

"So we're in the middle of the date, okay? He bought cinnamon-sugar pretzels and he was literally doodling our names in a heart when he thought I wasn't looking. I mean, I'm always watching, but. What a cutie? Like? But then when Artemis comes over, they were making these eyes at each other. And flirting. I think. You know that I'm no good at telling those things. And they were really cute together."

Brandon blinks. He's not good at telling things like that either—but. Um. "They were screaming at each other, I thought?"

"Yeah," says Richelle wistfully.

* * *

"Oh, Richeeeeelle," calls Artemis when she sees the girl at lunch. The white girl next to her gives Artemis a Look™ when she sits down, very Who-The-Fuck-Are-You-esque.

"Hi," the girl says, flipping her choppy dark braid behind her shoulder, "who the _fuck_ are you?"

Oh, Artemis is so good at pegging people! The best, probably. Artemis opens her mouth to say something, but the boy beside her beats her to it.

"Jennifer, don't be so rude!" chastises the boy next to her. He has copper skin and hair dyed bright blue, which is 100% against the Gotham Academy dress code.

That makes him a good kid in Artemis's book.

"Yeah, Jennifer," says Artemis, voice perfectly saccharine. She taps her nails on the table and turns her attention to Richelle. "How was the rest of your date with Wally?"

"Oh," answers the girl, eyes flicking down to the lunch tray in front of her. "Well, there wasn't really a 'rest of the date'. I…kind of left while you guys were still arguing. It seemed like it was really personal, and I didn't want to get in the way of whatever you two have." Richelle smiles at her a little bit, kind of sad and kind of fake.

She disregards her analysis to focus on her statement. And blinks.

'Whatever they have.'

Whatever they have? They have nothing? God, Wally irritates her; why can't she fight with anybody without someone gushing over the sexual tension? Okay, she's being hypocritical right now—she does that exact thing all the time—but.

"Oh, my god, no, we're just on the same…track team! Yeah. Yeah, and we always fight because he thinks he's faster than everybody else or whatever. It's genuine irritation, not sassy flirting."

"Really?" asks Richelle, half-skeptically, half-hopefully. She tugs on a strand of hair in a way that makes her seem anxious, but the way she's fixed her gaze on Artemis suggests—something else.

Artemis smiles at her, trying to look reassuring. "Really."

* * *

Robin is at the mountain, mainly because Bruce is being overbearing and oblivious and obtuse and, okay, out of O-words. But Bruce is totally in the wrong, and he's just taking his frustration out on Robin.

Granted, the frustration is from Robin.

Granted, Robin screaming right back doesn't help.

Anyway, it's immensely difficult to focus on your APUSH homework when your guardian is sending awful, angry vibes of…awfulness and…anger at you.

So he's (Richelle likes to demarcate the line between her two identities) here to escape the negativity of the Manor, but—of course—the two people he's kind of tired of (utterly exhausted with) have decided to bring it to the mountain.

He pauses in his typing up of how McGovern deserved to win against Nixon to focus on the voice that are crystal clear even through literal cave walls.

His fingers are jittery, tapping the edge of his laptop.

There's Wally screaming and Artemis shooting right back.

"I can't believe you did that, Artemis! I really liked that girl and you scared her off!"

Robin's fingers stutter in their pattern.

"I scared her off? I think you did that yourself, Baby Flash."

"Why do you ruin everything—"

Okay, you don't need this, you don't need to hear this, Robin thinks, shoving in earbuds and putting Lady Gaga on shuffle. The first song is from her jazz album. He sighs.

Some part of him feels kind of thrilled that Wally likes Richelle still. The plurality of him, though? Wally shouldn't have let Artemis goad him, shouldn't have even been able to be goaded by Artemis. It's not charming to start yelling at another girl in the middle of a date.

That's part of being incorrigible, he guesses.

The fluttery feeling in his stomach doesn't disappear.

Robin wishes he wasn't bi so he wouldn't have to like stupid fucking boys.

* * *

Speaking of stupid fucking boys.

Apparently, Richelle really can't escape Wally anywhere, it seems, because while she sits on top of the nearest firehouse (because that's the only other place she can think of to write this stupid essay about the election of 1972 where there's peace and quiet, and isn't that sad?) her phone buzzes.

She tries to ignore her phone. The US Presidential Election of 1972, after all, was when political ads became a crucial pillar in campaigning—

 _ **w** : hey Ruchekle_

 _*eihelle_

 _*richelle_

 _fuck i kno ur naem_

 _i swear sorry i keep_

 _screwing up_

 _Ok I got this_

 _Hey, rich_

 _ **r** : yeah?_?

 _ **w** : i just wanted to say _

_that i'm really sorry_

 ** _r_** _: omg for what?_

 _ **w** : for totally abandoning you _

_on our date! it was a total_

 _Dick move_

 _ **r** : its okay, you and artemis have_

 _a History™_

 _ **w** : but its totally not fine and_

 _i want to know how i can_

 _make it up to you_

 _i mean_

 _IF i can make it up_

 _i really like you_

 _ **r** : i like you too wally_

 _but i don't want to get bw_

 _anything_

 _Plus im def not down for ppl_

 _forgetting I exist_

 _ **w** :i could never forget_

 _u exist,,,Richelle pls_

 _im really fast we could go_

 _to Paris or venice or nice_

 _or marrakech or wherever_

 _u want_

 **Read 2:17 AM**

* * *

If Alfred keeps Bruce very busy for the next three days, it's a coincidence.

If Alfred says nothing about the silky blue caftan with patterns that suddenly appears in Richelle's laundry, it's merely by chance.

The couscous in the fridge? A remarkable concurrence of events.

And if there's smile glued onto the lips of what is basically his granddaughter, well.

That he chooses not to speak about.

(Besides, he'd of course been in Marrakech to supervise the teenagers. Albeit without their knowledge. They were rather cute.)


End file.
